


Act of Profference

by kijikun, Obstinate Nocturna (ChrisCrossed)



Series: The Flow of the Light [2]
Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Conjunx Ritus, Courtship, Fluff, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-02-27
Updated: 2016-03-02
Packaged: 2018-05-23 11:06:31
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 5,769
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6114574
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kijikun/pseuds/kijikun, https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisCrossed/pseuds/Obstinate%20Nocturna
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A small glimpse into the courtship of Megatron and Rodimus.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Medics and Murals

**Author's Note:**

> Beta'd by the lovely Harutemu!

Rodimus thought, as Megatron kissed him briefly - chastely - that if Rewind asked him now if he was happy; he'd be able to answer _yes, most of the time._

"I'm happy you approve of my gift," Megatron voice sent shivers up Rodimus’ spinal strut. 

Rodimus nuzzled his neck cables. "You kidding? It's awesome. I've been searching for a blue that shade for decacycles. I thought I was going to have to mix it myself and that's a pain for the amount I wanted."

Megatron's thumbs stroked at Rodimus' biolights from where they rested on his hips. "Good. Enjoy your painting, I'll see you after my shift," Megatron rumbled softly, removing - much to Rodimus' regret - his hand from Rodimus' waist. 

"Looking forward to it," Rodimus told him with a smile much softer than the bright, wide ones he used to force. Their meshed fields parted reluctantly. "We still on for movie night afterwards? I know you aren't a huge fan of earth movies, but I think you'll like Ferris Bueller's Day Off. It's got a bunch of the underlying philosophy stuff you like."

Megatron chuckled. "I would still debate whether or not a comedy chosen by Swerve could have underlying philosophical 'stuff', but yes, Rodimus, we are still on for the movie."

"Great," Rodimus murmured, searching for something else to say that would hold Megatron there a few more kliks. 

Megatron's crest drew inwards before he took his helm out of his subspace and slid it into place. Rodimus had started to see it as a visual switch from the Megatron that courted him and the Megatron who (co) Captained the Lost Light. 

Megatron kissed him again, brief and tender, before heading down the hall towards the bridge and his shift.

Rodimus did not stare after him like a besotted new-build with his first crush.

"Magnus would have a fit over that little public display of affection," Ratchet said from behind him with a dry laugh.

Rodimus also did not jump and spin around. He was way too cool and awesome for that. "Oh, hey, hi Ratchet. How long have you been standing there?"

"Long enough," Ratchet told him, with an amused tone. 

"Uh -- you aren't going to tell Mags, right? He'll write me up or something. Is PDA against the autobot code? I never checked," Rodimus laughed awkwardly, slowly edging away from the former Chief Medical Officer. 

Ratchet did a convincing job at rolling his optics. "I won't, it's not, he'd have to write himself up too, and you are coming with me to the medibay."

“Uh -- I am?”

"You are," Ratchet confirmed. "If you run I will get Drift to track you down and drag you in."

Rodimus visibly pouted. "No fair turning my best bro against me," he whined. "You have sullied our sacred bond."

"Uh-huh," Ratchet sounded very unimpressed and unmoved. "Walk, kid."

Rodimus grumbled a little, doing as Ratchet ordered and moving his pedes in the direction of the medical bay. “Pretty sure I’m not due for a tune up, Ratch.”

"No, you aren't," Ratchet agreed. 

"And I really don't need to be lectured about Megatron. I thought you two were like friends or something now," Rodimus grumbled, racking his processor for any reason Ratchet would be dragging him to the medibay.

“Friends is a very strong word,” Ratchet informed him, “But no, this isn’t about Megatron either.”

Rodimus hopped up onto one of the medical berths once they were in the medibay itself. "So, what _is_ this about? I haven't don't anything spark-threateningly dangerous lately -- that I can think of?" He tilted his head considering. "I mean yeah I did a little meteor surfing the other orn when we went through that meteor field, but that's hardly spark-threatening." 

Ratchet pinched his olfactory sensor. "You are a menace," he said without any bite and more than a little fondness. It reminded Rodimus a bit of Springer, of Kup, of the Wreckers. Of orns when he was just Hot Rod. "Let me see your hand."

Rodimus held out his hand, confused. “Your _other_ hand, Rodimus.”

He froze, the hand in question curling close to his chest. "It's fixed. You saw it yourself. No number anymore. No need to bother with it."

“I know the number is gone, that doesn’t mean it was fixed properly.” Ratchet said. “Now let me see, Rodimus, that’s an order. I outrank you in this medibay.”

Rodimus snerked. "You outrank _Optimus_ in any medibay."

“Which means I still outrank you. Hand.” Ratchet ordered.

He ex-vented hard. "Ratch, you've got more important things to worry about than whether I repaired my hand right. It's been ages, even if I hadn't the self-repair would have taken care of it. If that's all can I go now?" 

The truth of it was, Rodimus knew he hadn't fixed it properly. He'd felt like so much slag after everything with Optimus and Ratchet, then Megatron became(co-)Captain and just -- everything, he'd shoved filler in and painted over it. It still ached some - he hadn't really been careful when he'd etched in the numbers after all -, but it wasn't a big deal. It really wasn't. Not enough for Ratchet to spend time on. 

The truth was Rodimus still believed he deserved feeling the phantom numbers.

“I think it’s my decision whether or not I have more important things to worry about.” Ratchet told him, reaching over and tugging Rodimus’ hand away from his chest since it was becoming clear that the speedster wasn’t going to relinquish it himself.

"Ratchet -- " Rodimus protested one last time. He didn't fight Ratchet though. No point now, really; Ratchet tended to get his way. 

Ratchet huffed disapprovingly as he looked over Rodimus’ palm. “Well, it isn’t the worst self-patch job I’ve seen.” He said, not relinquishing Rodimus’ hand as he reached for his tools.

Rodimus laughed despite himself. "What was the worst?"

"Drift stuffing steel wool wadding into a projectile wound with the projectile still inside him comes to mind most recently," Ratchet said dryly. 

Rodimus’ jaw dropped slightly. "He did _what_? You fixed him right? I mean, of course you fixed him. But he stuffed -- how run down was he letting himself get? He just told me you fussed over minor repair slag not that he was seriously damaged and ignoring it -- "

“Seems you both have a bad habit of not taking care of injuries like you should,” Ratchet told him, something akin to a smirk on the medic’s face, “Although yours is admittedly minor compared to that. Now dull your pain receptors on your palm so I can dig out the filler putty you used." 

“Ratchet, you really don’t need to --”

Ratchet gave him a flat look. “You can do it yourself or I can use medical overrides and do it for you, Rodimus.”

Not wanting to test Ratchet’s willingness to do so, Rodimus dulled his pain sensors and watched as Ratchet scraped the paint off,before carefully beginning to dig out the fill putty. 

"You nicked a few sensors," Ratchet huffed. "I figured you had the way I kept seeing you worry this spot. Why didn't you come to me about the pain?"

He refused to look Ratchet in the optics. "You know why so why are you asking me?" 

“Contrary to popular belief and Optimus’ accusations, I am not in fact a telepath.” Ratchet told him, still carefully digging out the poorly packed putty.

"You aren't?!" Rodimus gasped with mock shock. "You've set the betting pools back vorns, Ratch. Smokescreen is going to have to reorganize half his betting boards."

“Don’t make me regret not going with medically induced stasis for this,” Ratchet scolded, but Rodimus had gotten enough lectures from the medic to know when he was being serious and this was not one of those times. "So you want to tell me why or do I need to refer this to Rung?"

Okay, now that _was_ Ratchet being serious.

Rodimus felt his spoiler droop. "I -- " He swallowed around the imaginary lump in his intake. "I know what you said -- when you first found out about the numbers -- about me having what turned out to be a fake data pad. When you told me you voted against me -- I -- I felt like I still deserved the reminder, Ratch. I didn't deserve to try to forget how badly I fragged up. If I was more like Optimus I would have resigned. That would have been the right thing to do, I mean it's partly why Optimus took the ship from me." He hesitated. "Isn't it?"

Ratchet ex-vented heavily. “If you’d asked me that before I left chasing after Drift, I’d probably have agreed. Now, though -- this isn’t an Autobot mission, Rodimus. You know that better than anyone, given you went against Bumblebee’s direct orders to start it. Optimus overstepped his bounds, Prime or not, though I don’t think even he knows it. Can’t commandeer a privately owned vessel outside of wartime. I’m surprised Magnus wasn’t all over him about that, but I suppose given it’s Optimus, I shouldn’t really be surprised.” 

Rodimus stared like the medic had started speaking Primal Vernacular. "What, are you saying -- do you mean that Optimus was wrong? I mean, Ratch, I'm an Autobot, so are most of the mech on this ship so it is an Autobot ship -- "

"Drift bought this ship with his private funds then _gifted_ it to you, correct?" Ratchet started slowly as if Rodimus' logical chip had a glitch.

"Yeah? I mean that's why it was so fragged up of me to let Drift take the blame and to -- " His vocalizer spit static. "To do what I did to him."

“That’s a conversation for another day, and one you need to have with Drift, not me,” Ratchet told him firmly. “But Rodimus. This ship is _yours_. Not property of the Autobots. Whatever affiliation you have, whatever affiliation the mechs on this ship have? It’s private property. _Your_ property.”

Rodimus focused on the work Ratchet performed on his hand. He'd had the conversations with Drift before and it didn't make him feel less guilty, didn't make the ship more _his._ "It belongs to the crew just as much as it does to me. And I mean, I really wasn't a very good Captain - numbers show." He laughed. "Is this going to take long? I wanted to get most of the mural I had planned for Megatron's door done before he got off shift." 

Ratchet ex-vented in something that sounded a lot like frustration, but Rodimus was used to that. “Don’t rush me, Rodimus. It’s my job to make sure that this crew is one hundred percent, so it’ll take as long as it takes. Maybe next time you’ll come to me rather than trying to pack it yourself.”

He could think of several smart aft things to say, but wisely kept his mouth shut. 

"Mural on Megatron’s door, hm?" Ratchet rumbled after a while. "Taking the courting business seriously. What's he been giving you?"

Rodimus flushed slightly. “Just -- y’know -- stuff.” He mumbled, unable to help smiling a little. "Not really sure how this whole courting thing is supposed to go. I've read what I can find about it, but some of it's just -- dumb. Like who cares if he can support me and my kindled -- what the hell is a kindled anyways? Isn't that an earth data pad?" He huffed. "So anyways I figured a mural on his door with something he'd like was the best way to go. Something nicer than the slag mechs kept putting on it when he first got here."

Ratchet's field flickered oddly during Rodimus rambling, but it disappeared so fast Rodimus thought nothing of it.

“Well, it’ll keep you out of trouble at least,” Ratchet chuckled. "Though if you want to know more about how 'this whole courting thing' works you _could_ ask someone."

"I did!" he protested, in mock affront. "Drift said it sounded overly complicated and probably lacked proper ceremony. And then I told him 'proper ceremony' sounded overly complicated to me, especially if it was like some of the stuff he learned in New Crystal City and then it turned into a wrestling match." Rodimus finished, grinning wide. 

Ratchet snorted. “I’m glad to know that our co-Captain and third in command can handle such things so maturely.”

Rodimus flashed him a brilliant smile. "It's part of our sacred bond of broship."

"That isn't a word."

“I’m Captain and I say it is,” Rodimus said, sticking his glossa out at Ratchet.

“You keep sticking that out at me and I’ll remove it.” Ratchet warned, wagging a servo at Rodimus.

Snorting in the most immature way he knew how Rodimus gave his most unrepentant grin. "Only if you want Megs slagged off at you."

Ratchet grunted in response. “If you think I’m scared of Megatron you have another thing coming.” He looked up briefly from doing something to one of the nicked sensors that made Rodimus' servos twitch. "Kid, you do realize that normally the ultimate goal of courting is that the two mechs involved become Conjunx Endura and spark bonded, right?"

“I’m not dumb, Ratchet.” Rodimus said, a little insulted. Just because he didn’t know what formal courting actually _entailed_ didn’t mean he didn’t know what the end result was supposed to be. “Megatron and I already talked about this. If either of us doesn’t feel ready for that kind of commitment, it’s not going to happen.”

"I know you're not dumb," Ratchet said, in an uncharacteristically gentle tone. "You just have a habit of leaping without looking. There are some things I can't patch up."

Embarrassed, Rodimus silently berated himself for snapping and throwing Ratchet’s obvious concern back in the medic’s face. “I -- sorry. Just -- you aren’t the first one to ask and I’m just -- getting frustrated.”

Ratchet didn't glance up, but Rodimus teeked the spike of anger from the medic. "Who's been giving you slag?"

"Not slag just -- several mechs were very -- _concerned_ and acting like I have no idea what I'm doing and poor dumb Hot Rod is having the mesh pulled over his optics by the big bad ex-warlord. And then there was Thunderclash," Rodimus made face. "He started talking to me about _consent._ Which okay, yeah, he just wanted to make sure I didn't think I owed Megatron anything and he was pretty okay about it but it was _Thunderclash_. I don't care if he's one of our new therapists," he paused almost mid word to make another face " -- and don't even get me started on Cyclonus being the head of 'don't take advantage of Megatron' club. I think our relationship has its own _column_ in the frelling newsletter now."

That last bit had Ratchet raising an optic ridge, but he supposed that after everything with Getaway,( that) Cyclonus would feel honor bound to make sure that nothing like that was going to happen again. If only so he could keep Tailgate far, far away from it. “The two of you are, admittedly, not something anyone expected to happen.”

“Neither are Tailgate and Cyclonus but you don’t see me up in either of their grills about it.” Rodimus muttered. “Like _I_ could force _Megatron_ to do anything.”

Ratchet's mouth turned up in a fond smile. "Rodimus, everyone knows you wouldn't force Megatron to do anything even if you could. The concern might be a little more about whether you're taking things as seriously as he seems to be and, well, Cyclonus is rather _old fashioned_ about courting _,_ " He chuckled, smoothing compound into the etched grooves. 

“Yeah well if you’d stop fussing over my hand and let me start painting that mural maybe they’d all lay off me.”

"Don't rush me, kid. You rush a medic you get put in medical stasis until they’re finished," Ratchet exvented. 

"I hate medical stasis," Rodimus whined.

"Then stop twitching, I'm almost finished. I just need to spread the nanite gel. It'll help kick start your self repair and give your paint nanites a boost," Ratchet told him. 

Rodimus huffed, tapping the servos of his other hand impatiently as Ratchet smeared the gel across his palm. “Okay, _now_ can I --”

Ratchet made a sound between a frustrated rumble and a laugh. "Yeah, yeah, get out of my gears, kid. I expect to see you in two orns to check out how it's healing. Don't make me hunt you down. I'll tell your courtmate on you. Or _Ultra Magnus_."

Rodimus’ optics narrowed. “Oh that’s low, Ratchet. That’s really low.”

Ratchet chuckled darkly. “Kid you haven’t seen me play dirty yet. Now, git. Don’t you have a mural to work on?”

That brightened the younger mech’s mood. "I do! Bye Ratch, thanks for the patch," Rodimus called hurrying out the door, calculating how much time the paint would need to dry and if he had enough time before Megatron finished his shift. 


	2. Gifts Given

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rodimus' gift means more to Megatron than he could imagine.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to the wonderful harutemu for betaing this for us.

Megatron's thankfully uneventful shift on the bridge was over and he stepped into hallway after handing command over to Drift. Unlike many of the other hallways of the Lost Light less mechs tended to loiter in this particular one so it was easy to see Ultra Magnus. He chuckled inwardly, Ultra Magnus was always easy to see unless he was stipped out of the armor. 

Megatron saw the edges of Ultra Magnus’ mouth curve up in an approximation of a smile as he approached. The SIC paused by the elevator. 

"Ah, Megatron, good. I was hoping to catch you before you went off-shift. I have some of the reports on the therapists Velocity recommended - also two suggested by Windblade. I thought you might want to look the candidates over," Ultra Magnus said. "I'd like to hear your thoughts on them."

“I’ll be sure to take a look at them,” Megatron promised -- Primus knew that after everything that had happened on this ship, the crew needed more psychological help than Rung alone could provide. ”Was there any mech in particular that caught your interest?”

Magnus nodded. "A Camien that Velocity and Nautica both suggested. She was on Windblade's list as well. However I’m reluctant to take someone already aiding Cybertron, we aren’t the only ones in need.”

Megatron nodded. "And Starscream would throw a fit on principle," he said, trying to keep the old bitterness and newer sorrow out of his tone and field. "What's this Camien's name?"

"Troubleshoot," Magnus told him. "Seems like she would be a good match with the crew and their needs. Her amica Synth has requested to join as well if we take on Troubleshoot. I have a file on Synth on the data pad as well, she's a chemist with some medical training."

"Hm, I'll pay special attention to those two then. Has Rung evaluated these yet?" Megatron asked.

Magnus nodded. "Yes, he’d already crossed a few designations off the list before I had even run the background checks."

"Good. Thank you, Magnus, for putting this together. I have been distracted as of late," Megatron admitted. Blaster passed by them on the way to the bridge with a nod.

"I understand," Ultra Magnus assured him, already pulling out another datapad from his subspace. "Do you think you could persuade Rodimus to look this over as well?"

“You know I can make no promises regarding Rodimus and paperwork,” Megatron said wryly. 

Magnus chuckled. "Getting Rodimus to do anything that looks to resembles work can be a daunting task. However, He has been getting better."

“Slowly but surely,” Megatron smirked. While Rodimus’ complaints over doing paperwork hadn’t lessened, the amount he completed each shift had at least risen to meet the younger Captain’s fussing in comparison to when Megatron had first come aboard the Lost Light.

"He's young still," Ultra Magnus said quietly. His optics went distant. "And never had the chance to experience his own youth.”

Megatron felt a sharp stab of something that felt a lot like remorse to his spark. “A great many didn’t,” He muttered, wishing now they weren't in the hallway for this.

Magnus bowed his helm slightly. "No, they did not. And a great many will never regain that lost time, a sin on both our sides.”

Megatron put a hand on Magnus’ shoulder for a brief moment before letting it fall back to his side. “I’ll look over the list you gave me. For now though, I’m going to go find Rodimus. He has been far too quiet and that’s almost never a good sign.” Megatron said, lips quirking into a smile.

"He might have another mural planned," Magnus suggested. "Swerve always becomes rather quiet when he's working on a new drink."

“True. Silence from Rodimus is slightly less worrying since he’s allowed himself a hobby. Well. One that isn’t racing through the halls," Megatron chuckled. "Not that he's given that completely up."

“So I’ve noticed.” Magnus said flatly, optics on one of the many skid marks on the hall floor. “I am going to have to speak to him and Drift about it. Again.”

Megatron chuckled and shook his helm. "It does let them flex their t-cogs. That is more often a problem for speedsters then one that heavier frames like you and I occasionally have."

“I had hoped the _meteor surfing_ had quenched his need for such recklessness,” Magnus said exasperated, but fond.

"He tells me it's a different sort of thrill," Megatron told him with another shake of his helm, his crest smoothing back beneath its confinement. "I should go before Rodimus comes looking for me. I'll let you know my thoughts on the mechs listed."

Magnus nodded, turning and heading back down toward his office. "I suppose I will see you later at Swerve's movie night?"

"Yes, Rodimus is quite sure I will enjoy it." 

"Swerve insists the same," Ultra Magnus said, his face plates shifting to a fond, wistful smile. "I should use my free evening to catch up on work, but I find I have a tendency to indulge him."

"I understand you completely. I will see you later then," Megatron told him, watching for a few moments as Ultra Magnus walked towards his office with a faraway look in his optics. Happiness looked good on his friend. Megatron hoped it would last for him.

Megatron turned the other way, onto the elevator. He'd hoped Rodimus hadn't been waiting long - he had the bad habit of just breaking in. A habit which Ravage did not appreciate - at first at least. He'd come in after one shift to find them watching some human drama together. Leaving the lift walked towards his hab-suite, almost out of rote memory now. He passed several mechs, but paid them little attention. If they looked at him in scorn or hatred as they once had - or sometimes now still did in protectiveness of their Captain - he hardly noticed. 

As he walked he reviewed the list and comments that Ultra Magnus had compiled for him. Troubleshoot did seem like she would be a good fit for the ship and crew, but he'd want Rodimus and Rung's thoughts as well. 

As he rounded the corner to the hall leading to his hab-suite - a plain dull corridor like all the others of the ship - a flash of color caught his optics. Raising his head, Megatron’s optics widened and the data pad clattered from his unresponsive fingers, the noise catching Rodimus’ attention from where he was sitting on the floor in front of Megatron’s hab-suite door, a paintbrush in one hand and covered in splatters of paint.

“Oh! Uh, hi,” Rodimus said, a little bit of embarrassment tinging his field, “Was kinda hoping you’d be gone longer.” There were smears of blue and white on his chin and face plates were he must have rubbed his servos in thought as he worked. 

Megatron's own servos itched to touch.

His crest strained to unfurl under his helm, an almost automatic response to Rodimus at this point. His processer wanted as much information about Rodimus, his field, _everything_ that it could get. 

"You -- " He cycled his optics twice. The mural was only partly done, but it was clear it was one of the crystal caves once mined for engeron - most of their beauty uncaringly destroyed along the way. This cave in particular had inspired a poem of his he'd thought had been long destroyed by those that held power and forgotten by all others. Much like everything he'd been before he took to arms.

“It, um, it isn’t finished yet,” Rodimus said, rubbing his hand over the back of his neck, smearing more paint. “But uh, what do you think?”

He caught Rodimus’ hand that was still holding the paintbrush and hauled him up into an almost trembling kiss. "How did you know -- that poem was lost. All the copies were destroyed." 

There hadn't been many copies. He hadn't learned that lesson yet.

“I have my sources,” Rodimus said, sounding a little dazed from the surprise kiss. "I wasn't sure if I was capturing it right, but it was hard not to picture it from how the poem described it. I -- is this okay? One of the data pads on old courting customs I found talked about giving your courtmate something from their past -- " His servos smeared paint across Megatron's chest.

Megatron cut Rodimus off with another kiss, this one a little firmer. “It’s fine, Rodimus. It’s more than fine.” He would explain, later, when he found the proper words for it, how _incredibly touched_ he was that Rodimus had not only gone through the effort of -- somehow -- locating one of his supposedly destroyed early works but had been inspired enough by it to gift him with something _else_. For now, though, he hoped these three would suffice: “Thank you, Rodimus.”

Rodimus smiled like Megatron had given _him_ something precious. "I wanted to show you and everyone how serious I am about this courting thing. I wanted to give you something as spark felt as the gifts you've given me. Like that first poem."

Megatron reached a hand up and cupped Rodimus’ paint smeared chin. “Rodimus, you don’t need to prove anything, not to me or to anyone else.” Megatron was more than aware of some of the crew’s opinion on Rodimus and himself publicly courting. It was hard not to be, when the animosity toward himself resurged. 

Not to mention there was an _entire column_ devoted to it in that blasted gossip pad. Though, Megatron had to admit, at least whoever was behind it seemed to have understood from the beginning that it was a _mutually_ consensual relationship.

"Maybe," he said with a shrug, going up on his pedes to steal a kiss. "Let me seal this real fast and we can go get that engeron and still make the movie."

“Ah, yes. The movie.” Megatron would rather, at the moment, take Rodimus into his hab-suite and kiss him until he believed that Megatron needed no gift more than Rodimus affections.

“I’m telling you, you’re gonna like it, you big grump.” Rodimus grinned up at him. “Now gimme just a minute to seal this and we can get going. Or,” he hesitated slightly, "You can watch me finish it. It shouldn't take too much longer -- we'll still be able to make the movie I bet. I'll have to come back and added later when it's dried but --"

"I'd like to watch you." Megatron smiled softly, leaning against the wall across from the door so as not to get in Rodimus’ way. “Take as long as you need.”

Megatron watched pink color Rodimus' face plates as he knelt back to his paints. Watched the delicate way his servos held the brush, the small smile that graced Rodimus' lips as he lost himself in painting once more. Felt the lovely way Rodimus' field bloomed. 

Megatron eased his helm off and stored it in his subspace. He'd rather watch Rodimus work and feel the bliss and joy in his field than watch a film. He was certainly in no rush.

No, no rush at all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just an epilogue left for this fic. We apologize for it being so short, but while the last fic wished to be longer than planned this wished to be shorter than planned. Don't worry there is more of Megatron and Rodimus courting to come.


	3. Epilogue: Another Point of View

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ultra Magnus is very happy for them and not at all envious in any way.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you to our beta harutemure!

"See, told you you'd like it," Swerve said, cheerfully, walking close enough that they should be brushing against each other with their frames not just with their fields. Ultra Magnus was slightly distracted trying to figure out how that was and caught up in the smooth pleased feeling of Swerve's field, "Gotta learn to trust my taste in films, Magnus."

Ultra Magnus shook his helm slightly. "While I did enjoy some of the philosophical questions the film brought up I do not approve of how it encouraged balant law breaking. I think we must come to the realization that while we enjoy certain things in each other's company it does not follow that our tastes in other things will be similar." His spark deep inside the Magnus Armor, under Minimus' chest plates ached. Both as Ultra Magnus and his irreducible self, the fact he could not just -- pretend -- to enjoy things his potential partners did had stymied many a relationship before they'd gotten much traction and -- wait these were not the hallways to Swerve's hab-suite. The lights in the corridor near Swerve's hab-suite had the distressing tendency to flicker when he approached though he'd checked himself and nothing was wrong with the lights in question. "My apologies I seem to have walked us towards my quarters again."

“Startin’ to think you might be doing that on purpose, Mags,” Swerve teased, “Once is an accident, twice is coincidence, but this is, what? Four times?”

Magnus bowed his helm slightly. "My apologies, Swerve. While it is no excuse I find I become caught up in our conversations and simply move on an accustomed route towards my quarters. I shall try to be more mindful in the future."

There could be not mistaking in the way Swerve's field light up at the 'in the future'. It -- eased some of the ache in his spark. "Hehe, don't worry, Mags, I don't mind at all."

"Still, I will pay more care in the future," Ultra Magnus assured him. Ignoring the warmth that spread through him at the shortening of his designation while wearing the armor. It still struck him how different it felt when Swerve spoke it then when say Rodimus did. "I hope Rodimus and Megatron rudely coming in after the film had started didn't ruin your enjoyment." Not to mention Rodimus still being covered in splotches of paint. 

Swerve laughed. "Nah, Roddy warned me they'd be running late." He grinned wider, visor bright. "He was working on one of his big courting gifts for Megatron."

“Ah, I see.” Ultra Magnus said, slightly mollified that Rodimus had at least had the forethought to warn ahead. He stopped as they reached his quarters, hand hovering on the keypad. "Another mural from the looks of his plating. Interesting choice of courting gift." 

"Roddy seemed to think Megatron liked it. Both seemed pretty happy when they came in. That's all that's important, right? Not whatever sla-- scrap the rest of us think huh?" Swerve chuckled. "So, uh, I guess this is you."

“Indeed,” Magnus wasn’t sure which of Swerve’s questions he was answering, but both were correct; despite his own misgivings about the situation at first, it was no business of anyone’s but Rodimus and Megatron what they did in their personal lives, as long as it was harming no one else on the ship. And they had, in fact, reached his hab-suite door.

Swerve rubbed the back of his helm. "Uh, I guess I should -- " he hesitated glancing up and down the corridor. "Can I kiss you goodnight? I know you frown on PDA and all, but it's not like anyone is around to see so I won't embarrass you or anything." His field mixed together emotions like it was one of the drinks Swerve was so fond of creating until Magnus couldn't pick out the individual components. 

The hallway was empty. No one would see them. Only that wasn't at all the important thing here.

"You do not embarrass me." Magnus said, frowning down at Swerve.

“What?” Swerve asked, visor flickering. “Oh, that. I mean, it’s fine, I get it, I embarrass myself sometimes, you don’t have to spare my feelings or anything, Mags --”

"I do not approve of public displays of affection from mechs who are currently on duty," he said firmly. Half the crew could walk by now and he would not be dissuaded. Swerve would not be allowed to think such things. He carefully, so very carefully, placed a hand against Swerve's shoulder, trying to not allow his processor to think how easily it could hurt the mini-bot. "I would - what I mean to say is that I would not object at all to a good night kiss from you."

Swerve’s field lit up happily. “Yeah? Well then get down here.”

Ultra Magnus felt a wave of heat pulse through the armor and frame. "Ah, yes, of course," he said. He leaned down, a touch awkwardly, so his mouth could press against the eager curve of Swerve's mouth. He would later deny the frankly embarrassing noise he made when Swerve’s servos found their way under the collar of his armor, tugging him closer and holding him there. 

Swerve's mouth tasted like the salty engeron treats he'd been eating during the movie. His vents pushed heat against Ultra Magnus frame and he found his own sevros worrying the spot where the data slug had been under Swerve's plating. It should have been awkward. He felt oversized and clumsy, but Swerve trembled and moaned into the kiss as if it was perfect. 

Primus help him, it was better than if it had been perfect. Perfect wouldn't have felt so - real. 

Ultra Magnus pulled away reluctantly as his back strut finally protested the angle he was bent over at. He embarrassedly dismissed a request from on his HUD relating to his array. "Thank you," he rasped, all too aware of how loud his fans sounded in the quiet of the empty corridor.

"Think that's my line," Swerve chuckled shakily. “So, I’ll, uh. See you tomorrow?”

"Of course," Ultra Magnus assured him, very reluctantly pulling his hand away from Swerve's frame. "Recharge well, Swerve."

“Yeah, you too, Magnus.” Swerve gave a little wave and turned back down the corridor. 

Ultra Magnus watched him until he disappeared around the corner, optics lingering more than was strictly necessary on the mini-bots aft. His glossa ran over his bottom lip as if he could still taste Swerve. He wisely retreated into his quarters. 

Next time, he told himself, he would invite Swerve in.

Next time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And that's a wrap! But don't worry the series is far from over. (There will be more courting fic we promise).

**Author's Note:**

> First fic in this series decided to be longer than planned, this one decided to be shorter. Don't worry we'll show more of them courting in future fics. Also beware of signs of the series plot kicking in. XD
> 
> Ratchet's description of Drift's attempt at repair is a nod to the [ Say Yes series by](http://archiveofourown.org/series/258271)[ SlimReaper](http://archiveofourown.org/users/SlimReaper/pseuds/SlimReaper)


End file.
